


The Chief and The Warrior

by returntosaturn



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returntosaturn/pseuds/returntosaturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hicstrid one-shots. In no particular order. Some may have spoilers for the sequel.</p><p>"He licked his lips and surveyed her for a while longer before she spoke through a forkful of chops and fresh eggs. 'What are you staring at?' The corner of his mouth quirked upwards and he shook his head. Instead of speaking, he slid his hand to hers across the table and traced his roughened fingers over her knuckles. Perhaps she'd understand what he meant."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> AN: So, I don't really know what happened. I saw the first movie when it came out, and thought it was great but didn't think much else of it. I just saw the next one and I just…I can't get it off my mind. Its probably the best thing Dreamworks has done since The Prince of Egypt or Eldorado. Its stunningly beautiful, an amazing story with incredible virtues, and funny in all the right moments. In short, an amazing piece of work. I haven't ever written for an animated film before, but here goes. I sort of see it in my mind as real life. Not animated…if that makes sense. I don't know. It does to me. Haha. I hope you enjoy. Please review if you do

She did not wear armor today. No spikes or heavy metal. Her eyes were bright and warm in the morning light, and she looked like a different girl than she did yesterday. At least to him. The same but different. Not really a girl. Sort of…a woman. Her hair was soft and wound up in flowers and sea-green colored ribbon. He had never seen her hair up; maybe that's why she looked so much older when she entered the Haddock's hut for breakfast. Valka had gone to prepare the square for the wedding feast, so the two were left alone as was customary to have their last meal together.

She didn't ask to be let in, but entered on her own accord, bringing the golden sun with her in her hair. He hadn't ever seen her nervous, either. But she stood near the doorway twisting her hands, smiling at the array of food his mother had laid on the table at the center of the kitchen.

He sprung from where he was already sneaking bites of toasted bread at the bench, slamming his knee on the underside of the table in the process.

"You," he spoke, catching her attention. "You…you look…old. I mean!" He drew a hand through his hair that hadn't managed to stay combed for very long. "You look older…oldly."

Oldly?

"….like a lady. Like a woman. Womanly." Finally he got it out, ungracefully and all wrong, but she kissed his cheek anyways and he couldn't help the smile that inched across his face.

"Started without me, did you?" she said, stepping around him to the table.

"Uh…" he murmured, and slid onto the bench across from her. "Gotta keep up this physique, ya know."

She rolled her eyes in a bored fashion, the way she always did when he said something stupid, and he smiled. He hadn't yet commented on her dress. A dress. To the floor. Without studs or course leather. Just a simple green dress that matched the ribbons in her hair, like spun spring grass. It was so…not her. And she was gorgeous in it.

He licked his lips and surveyed her for a while longer before she spoke through a forkful of chops and fresh eggs. "What are you staring at?"

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards and he shook his head. Instead of speaking, he slid his hand to hers across the table and traced his roughened fingers over her knuckles. Perhaps she'd understand what he meant.

That he meant she was the most stunning, tough, iron-willed and sharp-tongued lady he had never imagined marrying. There was something about her that he felt should be revered because of its ferocity, but protected because of its delicacy. He desired to honor this woman with his whole heart, and together he knew that they'd be ready for any battle ahead.

In some ways, she had led him here the same way Toothless had. Without either of them, he would've never had faith enough in himself to be chief, to stand for a people. Not to mention he'd probably still be the nerdy, scrawny lad with inventions that anyone else considered almost as uninteresting as himself.

Like with Toothless, he bowed his head in veneration, looking back down at the plate in front of him and picking his fork back up again to continue eating.

Their breakfast continued silently, until Valka entered hurriedly, shooing them away from the table and immediately clearing the dishes. "You're already running late, you two. Go home and get ready, dear. Your mother will want to help you." She practically shoved his wife-to-be out the door, never stopping her stream of orders. "And Hiccup, comb your hair…again. Don't forget to scrub under your fingernails and wear the clean shirt by the fire, there…"

She huffed, setting down the stack of plates and scraps she'd piled up, turning to face her son who stood frozen near the fireplace, gaping at the busied manner Valka had never behaved in before.

She was a broad and sturdy woman, wise from years alone with beasts. Hiccup trusted her beyond all else. He'd had tender moments wit her, but had never seen…this woman.

She smiled and sighed contentedly. "Oh, my boy."

She moved in quick strides to him, taking his chin between her palms. "I've missed so much of who you are…and here you are already a man. A handsome man. And a strong chief."

Hiccup leaned into her touch and mirrored her smile.

"There is no greater man than a brave one, Hiccup. A man who will fight with honor for his people…and for his lady." She grinned slyly and he rolled his eyes in protest to her teasing.

"A good wife makes a good man. Remember that." She bent forward to kiss his hair.

He rubbed at the crown of his head when she pulled back. "I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to take that," he said, and she smacked his arm playfully. He whined in protest, rubbing the spot. Her blows were almost as painful as Astrid's.

She pushed him to the stairs, laughing behind him. "Go and change, and don't forget a clean shirt!"

She unpinned the garment from the line hung above the fireplace and tossed it to him. He caught it and thanked her, scurrying for his room.

He dressed quickly, scrubbed the dirt from his fingernails at his mother's request. He could do nothing for the shrapnels of metal that had imbedded themselves into his palms from late nights of work. He scrubbed his face clean, and laced up a new boot on his existing leg, and forgotten all about his hair until Valka glared from the hearth when he attempted to slip past her for the door.

-O-O-O-

The entire village was gathered at the shoreline, the only spot in Berk where the water came in gentle waves and the rough rock had grown soft and crumbled into soft sand over seven generations.

Hiccup tugged at the collar of his crisp white tunic, warm even in the cool breeze brought in off the water. The heavy cloak of furs draped over him didn't help the situation, and weight of the sword hilted at his waist threatened to buckle his nervous, wobbly knees. Just next to him, his young bride finally took his hand and the crowd encircling them oohed in anticipation.

She still wore the same green dress, her hair twisted in the same way, the petals of the flowers tucked into the intricate knot bending the wind, and sending a sweet scent his direction. Around herself, she wore a traditional white cloak, draping over her gown and cinched at the wrists embroidered with a detailed pattern of gold thread.

Gothi plopped a ring of white flowers on Hiccup's head, and an identical one around Astrid's, connected by a fine gold ribbon. Astrid giggled under her breath. Curious, Hiccup met her eyes and finally realized exactly why she looked so grown up today.

Her traced her cheek with his forefinger before Gothi swatted his hand away harshly. The otherwise silent crowd laughed.

She traced a mark on his forehead with black ash, the same that she had christened him with just a year ago. Turning to Astrid, she marked her with the symbol of a warrior. Hiccup felt a burst of pride and awe within him, and the shieldmaiden nodded her gratitude at the shaw-woman.

Next, the small woman crushed a mixture of herbs, their thick and raw scents palpable in the air around the three. Barley for sustenance, and longevity. Dill for growth. A flower of dogwood for pure, untarnished love. The mixture turned to a dry, greenish powder that she spread above the marks on the foreheads, symbolizing the completed covenant.

The circle of villagers cheered and hollered boisterously while Hiccup leaned forward to wrap his arms around his new bride.

Above their heads, over Astrid's shoulder, he caught the sight of a black streak followed by the spiked tail of a Nadder disappear into the thick white clouds. And he smiled.


	2. Swordfight

“Oh, you are so not getting away with that!” Heavy boots stamped down the damp grass, treading after their owner’s prey, her makeshift axe—herein, de-needled pine branch—swinging unyieldingly before her.

Hiccup held his in both hands defensively. Its end had already been lopped off by Astrid’s powerful swings. The girl was ruthless even without an actual blade. “Hey what happened to the Snow Queen?” he complained at her breach of character.

“When you don’t play by the rules, the Queen doesn’t play by the rules!” She whacked his branch once more, and he fought back, pushing back against the Queen’s heavy force.

A grunt escaped his throat. “You gotta admit, that was clever.” He stepped forward on his iron leg, and she backwards. They were actually engaging in combat now, footwork and all.

“Stealing a kiss? Really clever. And I suppose that’s what you pride yourself on, for you are most certainly the most scrawny pirate I’ve ever encountered.”

He inched her backwards towards the trees, still keeping her engaged. 

“Wow, you’re getting pretty good,” she said, as Astrid. 

Hiccup grinned. “Yup. That’s what happens when you become a man.”

Astrid sputtered in laughter, though her guard did not falter. 

She had to admit; he’d grown into himself rapidly since they’d both turned eighteen. He was still Hiccup, with his harebrained schemes and unconventional tactics, but he was different now. He was taller, and growing more handsome by the day, lean muscles sprouting along his back and arms. But that was just the physical. She could tell something had clicked within him after Toothless. Something that she’d probably identify as confidence at the very least and gallantry and valor at the most.

Her thoughts were interrupted when he bashed her pine branch aside, and she returned to blow with equal force. It was too little too late, because her efforts underpowered his when he knocked her backwards against a tree, holding her there against his chest, only their ‘swords’ between them.

“Ha. Gotcha. Now, Queenie. Hand over the treasure.” He held his hand out expectantly, swinging his pine branch behind his back and gazing up at her proudly.

“I let you win,” she groaned.

“I resent that,” he teased, even though he knew she was just protesting her slip up. “Now pay up.”

Her eyes rolled, and she fished in the pouch on her belt for the thick, wrapped square.

“Ah yes!” Hiccup cheered himself in victory. He unknotted the twine and slipped the delicious sweet cake from its flimsy wrappings. “The fair Queen’s weakness revealed. And the prize for this discovery, a warm gooseberry cake, with just a tang of Elder Hofferson’s famous fresh pressed wine baked in with it.” His monologue drew on as he stole off to the edge of the cliff with his new treasure cradled in his hand, already sucking the deep-colored juice of a gooseberry off his thumb with a smack of his lips.

Crosslegged, he finally bit in and reveled in the taste of fresh berries with the tart of wine just barely distinguishable. He murmured a hum of contentment, and before he could take another bite, his fair-haired maiden dropped her head into his lap, staring expectantly.

“What? You expect me to share?” he said dryly, licking his fingers again. She scoffed at his rudeness, and shoved him backward by his shoulders. The half-eaten cake tumbled from his grasp, landing in the soft grass. In a flash, Toothless was there to snatch it up, chocking it down greedily.

“Wha—You! No! No….agh….” Hiccup twisted away from Astrid above him to swat the dragon’s hind leg as he trotted away once more. “Have it, you big…brat.”

Astrid laughed over him, her head thrown back to the sun, hands on her belly. 

He grinned, watching her. It wasn’t often something elicited this from her. Unless the something was him. She was freer around him. Defenseless, unlike her normal state of quipped barriers and close emotions. She had nothing to prove here, because he already adored her exactly for who she was.

His hands gripped her waist to pull himself to her. “Come here, you.” He planted his lips to hers, and breathed her in. She smelled like cakes, grass, earth, and honeysuckle.

She hummed beneath him and it almost fueled him on before he remembered himself. He tugged back, falling on his hind in the grass. “Good fight, milady. Though you did not fight fair.”

She balked. “I did so!” 

He favored his existing leg as he stood. Not out of pain but out of habit. He reached for his forgotten sword-branch on the ground. “Did not! Look at this thing.” He gestured to the split bit at the top where Astrid had broken it to nearly the length of a dagger. “You,,,mangled it.”

“Mangled!” she said. “I’ll show you mangled!” 

“You just tried to,” he said and she hovered close to him threateningly. 

He backed up a few paces, his hands up in mock defense. “Now, Astrid. You’ll really mangle a cripple?”

“Cripple?” She planted her hands on her hips, still laughing but attempting seriousness. “You are many things Hiccup, but you are not a cripple.”

He waved the split hunk of wood through the air in front of him several times. “See? That’s what I love about my queen. She always believes that I can be more than what I see in myself.”

The air grew suddenly thick and ambient. She was no longer laughing and neither was he. He just grinned at her honestly, openly. Lopsidedly, and she just wanted to kiss him.

So she took the five paces between them, and she did.


	3. Death

His back pressed hard into hers as the fought. Sparks spewed from the dragon blade as he slashed before him, causing one of Berk’s new assailants to cry in pain and retreat several paces. She held her axe high in an upswing before bringing it upon her opponent’s arm. Hiccup didn’t even have time to flinch at the spew of crimson before he took on another black-bearded pirate, stepping away from the shieldmaiden and into conflict with the hulking figure that grew wide eyed at the puff of smoke and spark that singed the braids in his beard.

Hiccup was not unscathed when the bandit's dagger caught his forearm, sharp enough to slice through the thick leather. He merely winced at the pain, undeterred from his attacker.

He mirrored his opponent, unsheathing a sharpened dagger from his hip, raising it above his head to catching the other man’s weapon before it took aim for his throat. He groaned, shoving all his weight into the blade to overpower the pirate but he was quicker and more heavy, pushing back and inching Hiccup’s own dagger to the pulsing vein in his throat.

It caught just a short length of skin before Hiccup felt his opponent relax, and he backed up to let the monster fall at his feet, a familiar axe buried in his spine. Astrid stood several feet away, her hair damp and pointing every direction, a neat splatter of blood along her forehead and cheek like war paint.

He stared for a second, trying to make his gaping mouth catch a breath and form an expression of gratitude at the same time, but a raw and deep howl interrupted them. The sound was on a low wavelength, hanging close to the ground, unfamiliar to anyone who didn’t recognize its meaning. No one else in the swarm of Hooligans and their foes noticed, but the pair of them did.

He was off before her, following the cries of the Deadly Nadder to the cove of trees at the edge of the village. They echoed into the branches and grew more strained and cracked as they neared. His iron foot tripped up rocks and over the underbrush until he reached the center of the cove, Astrid not far behind.

In the clearing, Stormfly’s wings were stretched wide over a clump of black scales only recognized by the patterns on its back as his own Night Fury.

Panic twisted his stomach and Stormfly’s mighty whimpers stung his ears.

She howled again, arched upward into the high branches, and when he moved closer, knees buckling into the soft pine needles, she twisted to cry offensively at the pair of them, snarling in wrath. 

Hiccup ignored her, skulking forward on hands and knees to the red-violet pool of bitter-scented blood that surrounded his dragon. His underbelly was slashed wide, his synthetic tailfin missing. 

Hiccup stared down into the liquid that dyed the grass, wind punched from his chest. He hunched, lurching forward for air and reflexively from the dry sobs that caught in his throat.

Astrid watched him, his armor shuddering on his shoulders and back as he sought for purchase in the grass, his hands wandering close to the edge of the pool.

She dropped behind him, hands wrapping around to clasp over his chest plate to hold him in place. He tried only once to shove her away, otherwise focused on the mass of black scales before him. Stormfly had calmed, but still covered Toothless’s figure with her wings.

Silently, and then louder, he began to gasp for air. Her nose pressed into the slickness of his armor and she whispered his name, though he didn’t hear it over the piercing cry that finally thundered from him.

She squeezed her lids shut, her own tears splashing onto his back. Her arms still wound around his chest, holding him close though his body had gone heavy and quaked beneath her grasp.

He sobbed again, and she heard the soft tisk of his tears falling onto the grass.

She tried to haul him up, but then gave up, just holding him. 

It could’ve been hours that passed, but it was probably just a handful of minutes. Stormfly’s eyes were closed in reverence, still covering her companion protectively with her wings. 

Hiccup still arched over the grass, though he rested on the hip of his good leg, pressing against her like deadweight because he couldn’t find the energy to remember how to hold himself.

“I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have just left him. He’s…grounded without me. He can’t get away. I…”

He slammed his fight into ground. “I could’ve…I could’ve…”

She reached around for his chin, feeling the slickness of tears beneath her fingers. “Hush,” she said.

His chin quivered in her hand and he didn’t meet her eyes. “Go back to the docks. Make sure everyone is safe.”

“No, I’m not leaving,” she answered certainly.

“I have to…I have to…” His eyes flickered to Toothless’s ears poking from beneath Stormfly’s great jaw.

“Later. You’ll need help…” she said, but he surprised her.

“No. I’ll do it myself,” he growled. The storm in his eyes made her lean away. He drew his arm across his face fiercely, wiping away the thick layer of salty water and sweat. “I have to do it now.” He drug himself up from the ground. “Go back and help.”

She rose, finally catching his glance before she turned for the trees, dashing back to the blazing battle still on the docks. Behind her she heard him howl at Stormfly, angry and hardened.

“Go away! Get out of here!”

She saw her dragon soar overhead, flapping her wings furiously to rise as high as possible above the island.

-O-O-O-

The attack was warded off successfully by the Hooligan warriors, their land not left unmarked and their army not unscathed. But they were a tough people and could lick their wounds and rebuild their town by the end of the week. 

Astrid was already home, cleaned, and half-dozing on their bed near the fire, watching the flames crackle. She didn’t look up when the door opened and Hiccup rustled around, shrugged off his armor. He swayed slowly towards the fire, and only then did she look up into the raw redness surrounding his eyes and his weary face. His tunic was ripped at the shoulder and brown-tinted blood of an unattended wound soaked through. There was a small trickle at his throat that had clotted in a clump. He grunted gutturally, lifting the wool over his head and tossing it down.

He moved slowly, rummaging in the chest in the corner for a strip of bandage and went to wet a cloth from the pump in the kitchen. When he finally sagged onto the edge of the mattress, holding the supplies in his hands, he was expressionless.

Alert now, she sat up to take the wraps gently from his slack hands and begin covering his wounds.

As she knotted the cloth at the arm, she noticed tears on his cheeks again, reflective in the firelight. He was silent, his face still void and drained. 

She realized she had no idea what to do next.

Her hand pressed against his bare chest, over his heart, pressing gently.

She was trying to tell him something, and in the silence she could only hope he understood. 

He turned to look at her, his lips parted, his eyes flickering with uncertainty and confusion. Many streams tracked through his battle-worn face, over his nose and chin. She watched several new ones start their decent from his dark lashes. They finally dripped noiselessly onto the expanse of sheepskin between them.

She bent her forehead forward to touch his. Her hands rose to his hair, which seemed redder under the warm glow. 

Everything she was doing was wrong. The sinking fear of helplessness set in, and for once she had to face that no words or axe swings could save him from this. Nothing could burn away the guilt and the thought that the footfalls behind him were now imaginary and no longer his friend’s. His dragon’s. 

She held him there, feeling as helpless as she could allow herself to, cradled close until his body grew slack with sleep.


	4. Catapult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small note, the machine in this chapter isn't meant to be the one Hiccup uses at the beginning of the first movie to shoot down Toothless. That one is wicked cool, but I picture this chapter taking place a couple years before the movie, maybe when they're all thirteen. So I'd like to think Hiccup is just experimenting at being able to compromise for his lack of "Viking-ness" at this point. Anywho, enjoy :)

He’d been working on this design for months, rendering it in the small stall inside Gobber’s forge and constructing it when he had any sort of spare time. 

The transportability had been an issue first. He had to cut the weight, find a way to brake the wheels so the catapult wouldn’t slide forward when fired. He’d even tried multiple materials to use as the resistance and the pull rope. Ordinary rope had snapped, thicker rope didn’t hold enough force. He found that the stuff used to weave fishing nets was best. He found his fathers and had unraveled it, expecting he’d have to explain it later. 

But for now, he was eager to try the new improvements in the vale near the cove when he had a clear expanse for at least three miles. He wasn’t expecting those sort of distances today, but it was his favorite spot to experiment with new contraptions.

He pushed the machine along the river and down the flattest part of the valley, only getting stuck twice. 

He’d stolen several thick, round cabbages from Gobber’s small garden, and though they didn’t weigh as much as he’d like, they were still dense enough to launch. He’d brought several sizes of cast iron balls once the cabbages were done for.

He had the cover off and the arms and supports unfolded and locked in place in minutes. When he finally tugged the pull rope and launched the first cabbage, he realized he wasn’t alone in the valley.

Boisterous laughter echoed down the tree line, making him turn in the direction. Ruff and Tuff, Snotlout, and Astrid all skidded down the dip towards him. All carried some form of weaponry: axes, swords, and shields. 

He groaned inwardly, turning to ignore them and load another leafy green when he heard his name called mockingly in a high-pitched tone.

“How’s it going, cabbage head?” Snotlout called. The twins guffawed.

Hiccup didn’t even stop to steel himself. This had been going on too long. By now he just let it roll off his back. 

“Hey guys,” he greeted as cheerily as he allowed himself, dropping another load into the sling.

“What is this thing?” Ruff said, bracing one boot on the edge of the machine. 

“Technically, its…” he began.

“Don’t care!” she declared. “Already bored.”

“It launches stuff, stupid,” Tuff informed her. “Obviously.”

“Launches, because the pipsqueak’s too small to throw it.” Snotlout said, shoving Hiccup in the arm, making him fall back a few steps.

He rubbed the spot, his mouth twisted in half-grimace. If these guys didn’t have any good insults today, all they could rely on was their brute strength. 

“How far do you think we could launch you, Hiccup?” Tuff chortled, tugging on the center beam, bouncing his weight on it, making Hiccup’s blood grow hot but he said nothing.

“Off the island, hopefully,” Ruff said.

Snotlout tugged at the front of his tunic, giving the impression that his chest was broader than it was. “I could probably throw him farther than this toy.”

“Its not a toy!” Hiccup defended, stamping one foot forward, his shoulder hunched up and his fists clenched. His nose scrunched into a scowl.

The other children laughed at his display. 

Tuff snorted and waved his hands in front of him in jest. “Ooh. I’m so scared of you, mighty cabbage slinger!”

The kids doubled over in laughter. Except Astrid, who just stood unamused as always, leaning against a low cliff a short distance away. Hiccup was sure it was just her attitude, not because she wanted to defend him by not participating in her friends’ bantering. She probably thought he was just as scrawny, just as much of a black sheep as the others did.

He moved to the back of the trebuchet, fixing what Tuff undid. They kept laughing, even as they climbed easily up the slope of the valley, until Hiccup could no longer hear them.

He reset the resistance and added more weight to his machine. The largest iron ball was nearly impossible for him to lift, but some new burst of adrenaline—determination?—helped him get it into the leather sling. With a huff he pressed his burning hands against the fur of his vest and then crouched to set the rope.

The iron ball soared, not too high, but higher than he’d ever gotten it before. The arc was little too short, but he could fix that. It upset a puff of dust and rocks when it lodged into the hard earth at least seventy yards away down the dale. Better. Much better. He’d show those meatheads.

He turned on his heel, a grin plastered on his face. He stopped dead when he saw Astrid still lingering by the rocks, arms over her chest and scowling.

His hand flew to the back of his neck in embarrassment before he waved cordially.

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the rocks at her back. She marched towards him, arms swinging, hands fisted. When she made it past him, she broke out into a run. He watched her sprint, the spikes on her skirt jingling and her braid swinging him into a trance. He tried to shake it off when he saw her easily lift the cast iron ball from the place it was lodged, and tuck it under her arm. She sprinted back, free arm pumping.

She reached him and the machine again, and deposited the load into the sling. 

If his brain could’ve synced up with his mouth in time, he could’ve thanked her. He watched her with wide, hopeful eyes as she looked the machine over and he halfway expected her to ask if she could give it a shot.

But instead she looked back to him, and raised her eyebrow at his expression that still hadn’t changed from shock and awe. Then she turned and sprinted up the path the other young Vikings had taken up to the cove.

“Thanks Astrid,” he sing-songed dreamily, though she was too far away to hear him now.


	5. Proposal

Women were difficult. Especially this one. He was beginning to think earning Toothless’s trust was easier than figuring out something creative for Astrid’s birthday. A special birthday. Her eighteenth. If their relationship would’ve been in any way traditional, she would’ve been married with a babe on the way by now. Eighteen, after all, was the mean age for women in the village to marry. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry her. He did. He really did.

But the subject just never came up. Training dragons took up most of their time, and on the back end of things they were trying to learn as many things as they could about each species. Most of that came by experience. Then there was tending to their own dragons, and Hiccup’s inventions and time assisting Gobber. He’d been running the smithy on his own a few days a week for nearly a year and a half now, and getting paid for it. 

And it wasn’t as if their busy schedule kept them apart. He saw her everyday, at least at the training ring. And if their afternoons were free, they usually stole off to a secret spot near the cliffs alone or with their dragons in tow.

He was so glad to have her help. Glad to have someone to partner with in the last four years of changes on the island.

As far as marriage went, they both understood the way the other felt, and that was all that they needed, he guessed. Neither one of them particularly liked any sort of romantic mush, but this particular birthday put expectation on him. It was tradition to promise yourself to the lady before a real marriage was thought about, and if he had to do it, he had to do it now. Girls usually received these sorts of arrangements on their eighteenth birthdays, upon which they were now seen as women.

He stared up at the rafters in the forge, mind blank and racing all at the same time.

A familiar shuffle of boots broke his reveries and he glanced up at the entrance. Astrid stood there, axe over one shoulder and braid slung over the other. 

“Hi,” he greeted her, smiling.

“Hey,” she reciprocated, setting her weapon against the wall.

“Come to get that sharpened?” he asked.

“No, just to keep you company.” She perched on the edge of one of the work tables.

“Oh well by all means…I mean…I get off in about half an hour anyways.” He leaned his weight next to her, bracing his hands on the edge of the table behind him.

She tipped her face upwards, and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. He smiled at the gesture. He could remember a time not too long ago when they were equal height. Moreover, he could remember when she was a few inches taller. 

“I know. I was hoping I could bait you up to the rocks,” she said almost alluringly.

“Oh, bait me? Is that what I am to you? Prey? A piece of meat?” he teased, pulling away. 

She pinched his side roughly, but he laughed. 

There was no use stoking the fire now, since it was almost time to close up the shop. He began tidying things, dusting shavings and rolling up draft sheets. Astrid swept the hearth.

“Hey…so…” Hiccup said, gathering up a pile of spare bearing balls. “I sort of had a question…” he started.

“What?” she said, back turned to him.

He was chickening out. And fast. “Um…How do you think Toothless would react to a shed to stay in during the winter? Its coming fast and he is really too large for the house.”

He’d honestly been pondering this. He wasn’t technically throwing in the towel if he was asking her honest opinion. About a different mater entirely.

He heard her snort indignantly and turned to face her. She was staring at him now. Man, she knew him all too well. Or maybe it was just because he was never particularly good at hiding the heart he wore on his sleeve. “I don’t know,” she answered, looking at him suspiciously. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“Weird? I’m not acting weird. Nothing’s weird.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” she scoffed and went back to sweeping.

He sighed under his breath. “Got me there.”

“So what were you going to say?” she asked.

“I…forgot already.”

“Ok, fine,” she sighed disbelievingly and shoved the broom into his chest. “Ready to go yet?”

“Yeah…just lemme…get this thing…” He pointed and slipped away into the small room where he kept his renderings just to take a breath.

-O-O-O-

She wanted to punch him. More than she usually was tempted to. Not in the shoulder. Not a playful sock to his ribs to make him double over in false pain just to placate her. Today she really just wanted to plant a fist right between his eyes.

He’d marched into the training ring and taken over her class of five young Vikings, and now they surrounded him with endless questions, even asked for examples of the Typhoomerang’s special flying abilities, and he’d chosen one of them to even demonstrate and learn firsthand.

It really wasn’t that big of deal. He was more patient, and better with dragons than anyone on the island, and probably in the entire archipelago. It wasn’t like he’d taken over and pushed her aside because he assumed he could do a better job than her. She expected that he never would’ve suggested her to this position if he hadn’t had faith she could be great at it.

It was just the principle of it all. And on her birthday of all days.

Astrid was not the kind of woman who thought of her birthday as any more special than any other day, as if she should be appreciated and pampered for the act of birth that she’d hardly had any control over in the first place. But he at least could’ve shown some sentience for the lesson she was trying to teach the new riders and not let his big stupid brain butt in as he always tended to.

She was in the armory when he found her. She was grinding her axe in heavy-handed swipes, seated on a bench facing away from him, but when he entered, she swung to face him, tossing the stone away.

Her glare promised death—or worse, injury—and he winced, pursing his lips in an ‘o’ anticipating the blow that was sure to come.

“Sorry,” was all he said and she took a step forward, axe pointed directly at him.

“Hey!” he yelped.

“You always do that!” she began, resting her axe back over her shoulder. “You always get in the middle of when I’m trying to show them something! This is my job! You put me up for it!”

“I’m sorry, Astrid. It wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong…I just kinda…”

“’Just kinda?’ You always ‘just kinda!’” 

He sighed and his shoulders sagged in a way that made her almost feel sorry for being so angry. But at the same time she didn’t really care.

“I wanted to do something nice for your birthday.,,,” he began.

She wasn’t sure if he meant to be comforting or if he was ignoring the subject altogether. Either way, it didn’t help. She huffed and strode past him, axe hanging low to the ground.

“Astrid, wait—agh…” she heard him mumble before she was out of the room.

He followed her, but she’d already gotten away or hidden herself, so he gave up on pursuing her. It was never any use trying to find her, or console her once she was upset. It was easier to just let her steam and soften later.

At home, he sat cross legged before the fire, letting it warm his back and staring up into the rafters where Toothless snoozed, his tail drooping. 

“Somethin’s on your mind. Out with it,” Stoick pressed.

Hiccup still wasn’t entirely used to his father being interested in what he thought or had to say, but mostly because when he’d asked in the past, it was always out of obligation. It was different now, and Hiccup was past the stage of being pressed for information and giving vague answers either because of adolescence or to try and prove himself to be something he wasn’t. They had talks now, but years of never being able to communicate left Hiccup speechless sometimes simply out of habit.

“Today was Astrid’s birthday,” he said, not breaking is gaze from the ceiling. “I ticked her off in the training ring because I took over her lesson. I couldn’t even ask for her hand like I’d planned to. Wasn’t really planned because I still have no idea what I’m doing.”

Hiccup jumped when his father’s hand slammed down on the arm of the chair he was reclining in. “You hadn’t told me this!” he boomed, and Hiccup thought he was angry too, until he looked up to see complete, unabashed mirth on Stoick’s face.

“I was kinda hesitant to…” Hiccup said. “Mostly because I don’t even know if she’ll say yes. Or if I’ll ever get the courage to ask.”

Stoick’s laugh boomed in the small room, upsetting Toothless above.

“When I proposed to your mother, I presented her with a Nadder’s head, thinking maybe she’d be impressed.”

Toothless growled lowly, and Hiccup’s face twisted in uneasiness. 

“But the lady always was strange and simple in her ways, so she turned me down. She didn’t seem too moved.” 

Hiccup relaxed, and he watched Toothless’s flicking tail slow to a stop.

“So,” Stoick continued, “I took to the thought that I might have to buy her hand, and worked up a whole bushel of gold coins to present to her father. She still wasn’t keen on me, and even called me out in front of the whole village.” 

“Dad, this isn’t exactly helping…” he sighed. Stoick hardly ever talked about Hiccup’s mother, and Hiccup hadn’t ever been too curious to ask. She was presumed to be killed in a dragon attack when he was only an infant, and Hiccup had never blamed the beasts as everyone else had. Talking about it was just difficult and uncharted territory. Besides, he really wasn’t up for his father to attempt to give advice on how to handle a marriage proposal. 

“Oh, help?” Stoick said. “You wanted help?” 

Hiccup rolled his eyes. At least they were on the same page.

“’Fraid you’ll have to face her alone, son. Women are the only creatures that can render a man defenseless. You’ll have to learn how to fight the battles on your own.”

Hiccup groaned and planted his chin in his hands. 

-O-O-O-

The next morning, a gale was churning not far from the island. Their afternoon flight cancelled, much to Toothless’s chargin, the dragon and his rider were heading back towards the mainland when Hiccup saw an unmistakable streak of bright blue zip beneath a heavy grey cloud.

“Still upset with me?” he shouted over the heavy wind, approaching her from behind, switching gears on Toothless’s harness so he was able to slow to match Stormfly’s speed.

She glanced backwards. “I’m over it,” she answered shortly, navigating Stormfly easily through the thickening clouds.

“There’s a storm coming,” he pointed out. “You should land.”

“Says the guy who came saddled his dragon and came all the way out here to stalk me and make sure I didn’t get away without hearing his lame excuses.”

“Touché,” he agreed. He knew he couldn’t get off with a remark about wanting to rescue her from the silver lightning he saw from the cliffs, at least not without being driven into said lightning. “Let’s land on that beach.”

He navigated Toothless to the right, forcing Stormfly to bank in the same direction. A steady sprinkle had started to tipper-tap against the rocks when they finally landed. 

Hiccup didn’t miss Astrid’s disdainful look as she dismounted. She gave Stormfly a loving pat before the dragons galloped away to find deep mud puddles to play in. It wasn’t too safe to fly during storms, but the dragons seemed to love rainy days outside. Hiccup couldn’t say the same, but they were already wet and shelter couldn’t be found soon enough. They’d wait here until the clouds cleared.

“You’re not over it,” Hiccup said, rounding on her, trying to catch her wrist. Her fur hood was already damp, her bangs stuck to her forehead.

“Yes, I am,” she hissed. “Maybe I’d be able to let it go if you weren’t being such a constant…jerk!” 

“Jerk?” he echoed her. “How am I being a jerk?”

She turned and shoved his shoulder roughly. “You just got in my way and forced Stormfly and I to land. You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to get in the way like you always are! I could’ve landed if I wanted to, where I wanted to!”

“Its raining!” he protested, gesturing around them. 

“And you stole my class!”

“You said you were over it!”

“And forgot my birthday!”

“I didn’t forget! You just didn’t give me a chance to say so!”

She snorted and turned away from him, her arms over her chest. “Because you were being a jerk,” she reminded him.

“Alright, I’m a jerk. Happy now?” His hands flew up and down in exasperation, slapping against the wet material of his trousers. “A jerk who couldn’t even work up the courage to…” He drew his shoulders up and nearly winced. “…to ask to marry you and all that stuff. I didn’t know what to do or when to do it, or if you even wanted me to…and it all went wrong. Astrid, I’m so sorry,” he let it all rush out, defeated. 

She said nothing, just stood there facing the water, watching the ripples the tiny and steady rain made upon it.

“So I’m getting the silent treatment now, I guess. Well…geeze…” He rubbed his fist against his forehead and combed the wet hair off his face.

She turned sharply, suddenly. Her fist buried itself in his stomach and he yelped. “I said I was sorry!”

“That’s not why I hit you, you idiot!” she said, still looking angry as ever.

“Then what!” He was uncharacteristically shouting all of a sudden. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to be louder than; her, or the rain pelting the wet rocks between them.

“”Because you…you want to make that kind of promise. Don’t you get it?” she bellowed, her words a rush.

“So…you don’t want to…?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then why are you so angry?!” A loud crash of thunder sounded, making his words sound exponentially more powerful than he’d meant them to.

“Because Hiccup!” Her hands planted forcefully on his shoulders and he winced again. “Because I would’ve said yes.” Her voice had calmed and she didn’t attempt to bring him any more physical harm, so he relaxed.

“Still seriously confused,” he droned.

Her lips pressed into his before he said anything else. His hands found her lower back and he sighed, rain trickling over the nape of his neck when he leaned into her. 

When she pulled away, the tempest seemed to calm. He noticed her eyes weren’t so stormy either.

“Astrid…” he breathed, silently begging her not to interrupt. “I…I haven’t ever been good at talking…I really didn’t have any sort of speech planned…and I didn’t ever really imagine marrying you—or anybody before. But I want to.”

Her head tucked beneath his chin, all but burying herself against his chest. He felt her hands clasp about his slim waist. He combed a lock of damp hair behind her ear.   
She squeezed against him within the expanse of their silence, as if silently answering his offer. He was taken back to a few days ago in the smithy when she pressed her face against his shoulder just like this. It had been much warmer then. Much drier. But it didn’t really seem to bother him now.

“If you would have the rest of my days,” he said softly, “I would give them to you.”

“I will have them,” she whispered, almost quietly beneath the squall.

He had to smile. Because it was almost a demand. A certainty. The weight of them was suddenly heavy with rain water thickening the furs of their clothing. But the warmth of her and the nearness was a rarity, so Hiccup didn’t complain.

He fished around a moment, searching the inside pocket of his vest for the tiny trinket and found her fingers between them before slipping it on her hand.

She pulled away in curiosity, and Hiccup’s arms automatically went to her shoulders at the loss of close contact.

“It’s a ring,” he explained, watching as her pale eyes glittered while she gazed at her hand. “I thought you might want something special…to remember…not that you’re going to forget or anything, I etched Stormfly on there, see…?” He tried to point, but Astrid was already pressing against him again, both hands cupping his cheeks in a full-bodied kiss.

He took a long breath when she pulled away, trying to steady himself, his fingers flexing at the back of her neck.

“Whoa,” he huffed and she laughed. They were fourteen, young, and much more inexperienced since a kiss had taken his breath away like that. “Can I still say happy birthday?”

“I won’t hit you,” she said, grinning slyly. “But just know that I want to.”

This time, he pinched her side. “You always want to.”

Somehow, they managed a kiss while she paced backwards and he stumbled forwards after her. “And I always will,” she promised, turning swiftly to run to where their dragons were creating wide splashes of muddied water in the gorge. He followed, and when they returned home soaked to the bone, overflowing with laughter, Stoick didn’t even try to hide his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: So as usual when I write, I'm inspired halfway through with ideas I could include in future chapters. How popular this is will influence if I can continue or not, because I really don't need another thing to work at. But I can promise lots of action and dragons coming up. Reviews? Prompts?


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